He looked up, at her, almost startling her with his quick movement. The stub of a cigarette in his mouth, as he returned her curious gaze. “Sit down...” he mumbled, motioning with his head to the table to Angel’s left. Angel watched not him, but the cigarette as it wiggled as he talked, the burning tip flaring a red hue as he inhaled. She obeyed silently, not out of submission, but out of habit. Her body was still achingly tired, and she was grateful for an excuse to sit.There was more sizzling. My mom drove us home. I walked Sandra up to the door and waited to see if I'd maybe earned a kiss. She got her keys out, turned to me and smirked—she always seemed to be doing that."Well, kiss me, silly," she said. I did and it was delicious and long and hot and promised so much; or, so I hoped."It was fun. See you Monday with the books," she said. I nodded and she went inside. I walked back out to the car and mom and I drove off. She and I would be talking.For the next ten days in a row I was. More

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